


In Need of Sleep that Doesn't Come

by Aria_i_Adagio



Series: Whatever I've Done - First Draft [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Break Up, Depression, F/F, F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-01 04:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_i_Adagio/pseuds/Aria_i_Adagio
Summary: Julian isn't the only one making poor life choices.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A) This is fanfiction as an excuse to play around with two of my original characters who are limited to supporting roles in their continuity, thus the fanfic part may be less than what you want. B) The first smut I’ve indulged myself in typing out, versus leaving in my head. C) The following is written in the first person present perspective of the apprentice who is a short female.
> 
> Title is from Depeche Mode's song Barrel of a Gun, because it fits, and I struggle with titles.
> 
> Three chapters. The naughty bits are in the middle.
> 
> The following interrupts the canon narrative right after “Behind the Scenes” in Book VII, probably delays the events of “Dock Talk” by about 12 hours, but Julian is still a coward with a martyr complex, so no actual effects on the plot. Some cannon dialogue, tweaked as needed.
> 
> I can be found on Tumbler @aria-i-adagio

I pull Julian into an alley next to the theater and brush the dust off of his shoulders. The corners of his mouth twitch up in a grin. He leans over me, breath warm against my skin, and presses a quick kiss to my mouth. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages. Come on let’s get out of here before they, er, demand an encore or something like that.”  
A slow clap begins behind us. A woman’s voice, honey rich, drawls along the corridor. “Well done, darling. Excellent performance.”  
Julian pushes me behind him as I cast a orb out to light the alley. An elegant woman stands in the shadows, flanked by a young man who has both hands raised. “Hey, we don’t mean any harm.”  
“Then we’ll just be going.” I say as a tug on Julian’s cloak.  
“You’re the actual Julian Devorak. I thought I recognized you.”  
I yank harder on Julian’s cloak, waiting for the idiot to follow me. “No wait, I’m not going to turn you in or anything like that.” He moves closer. I twitch my fingers, causing the orb to crackle in warning.  
“Charming.” The woman looks me up and down pushes a dark curl out of her face. “But neither of us are going to be that impressed by a lightshow.”  
“Talia,” he looks back over his shoulder, addressing the woman. “Now you’re just being rude.”  
I push past Julian’s outstretched arm. “Who are you two?” Whatever the answer, my magic doesn’t sense any danger or ill will from them. And both of them speak with a slight accent which leads me to believe that they probably aren’t interested in local politics.  
“Adrian D-------.” He extends his hand, which I take despite Julian’s hand on my shoulder. He gives me an easy smile in return, crinkles forming around lively sea green eyes. “And my sharp tongued companion is Natalia.”  
“Dema Zakharova.”  
Julian steps closer behind me. “Where did you, um, recognize me from?”  
Adrian replies in a language that I don’t recognize, but that Julian, from his fluent response obviously knows. Julian blushes at something he says and then laughs aloud, freely and open mouthed, unlike the wry chuckles I’ve heard from him thus far. Adrian nods at me and switches back into the coastal trade language. “The good doctor spent a few months between ships in my city, and became quite...shall we say recognizable.”  
Julian laughs awkwardly. “Uhuh, yeah, that's me.”  
I pull my shoulder free of his grasp. “What did you want?”  
Adrian shrugs. “Well, we’re visiting the city, and to see a face I recognize on wanted signs, then that same person depicted as some sort of folk hero in a play, before he literally crashes into it. It makes a person curious.”  
“We’re bored.” Natalia cuts him off. “Adrian thought we could offer you-” she looks pointedly at Julian. “Dinner. But I’m more inclined to invite you, Miss Zakharova.”  
“I don't use ‘miss,’ but thank you, we’ll accept.” I hear Julian beginning a complaint and stomp on his foot. “Pardon me for a moment, please.” I whirl around and grab Julian’s shoulders pulling him down until we are roughly on level.  
“What are you doing? Listen,” he looks down. “We need to talk, really.”  
“Would you shut up! I’m pretty sure I already know what you’re putting off saying.” His face reddens, and he opens his mouth to respond. I touch my hand to his lips, stopping him. “So what’s one delay versus another. I saw the look you gave him.” I did not think that Julian could blush any brighter red, but he manages somehow. He stammers, not even managing an interrupted sentence. “Don’t be embarrassed.” I push myself on my toes and kiss him. What a stupid, sweet man. “He’s attractive. They’re both attractive. If they want to ‘get rowdy’-” I try out Julian’s phrase. “-then why not? It could be fun?”  
His hangdog face turns to a leer, and I press a quick kiss to his nose. 

Adrian and Natalia have been traveling in his private yacht, small enough to be manageable by a single person, but more than luxurious to impress me. He is, or so Natalia tells me, the second son of the family which governs some distant coastal city and in her words, a disgusting wealthy eccentric who thinks that mathematics is entertaining to study and teach. He is also entirely unabashed about settling Natalia, Julian, and me into a comfortable booth on deck and then excusing himself to go purchase what he needs to prepare dinner.  
“So, what is it that you do?” Julian begins. “Or are you some princess playing hooky from your responsibilities?”  
Natalia's dark eyes crinkle at the corners when she laughs. “A princess? Certainly not, I'm a costume designer and a dressmaker. Adrian is slumming it with me. But I don't mind offering you his wine. Red, white, both? I'm afraid the white isn't chilled.”  
“I can take care of that,” I offer.  
“I'll just bring both. Excuse me for a moment.” She disappears below deck, leaving me and Julian alone. I lean against his chest, savoring the feeling of being small and protected. He smells of coffee and whiskey, and there’s something familiar about it, too familiar to be explained by a night and day. Rubbing my shoulders, he leans over and peers at me with his one uncovered eye.  
“Are you sure you know what you're doing?”  
“Not at all. Are you?” I reach up and stroke his cheek.  
“I'm pretty sure that their intentions are rather more than dinner, my dear.”  
“I know.” I'm memory impaired, but I would be a fool to miss the appraising gazes Adrian had given both of us, and the somewhat sly ones that Natalia had reserved for me. “Is that a problem?”  
“He's, I mean -” Julian's voice trails off.  
“A fucking beautiful man,” I finish. “Don't be jealous. You're a handsome man. Those are two different things. Besides, I think you agree.”  
“Are you, umm, jealous?”  
I smile and shake my head. “I want you. For longer than a day. But not to possess you. And I don't want to be possessed.”  
Natalia returns with two bottles of wine in one hand and four stemmed glasses carried adroitly in the other. Once those are set down on the table she retrieves a corkscrew from a pocket and twists it into the stopper on the bottle of red. I pick up the white and siphon of the excess heat with my magic.  
“That's a handy trick.” Natalia works the cork out of the bottle of red with a soft pop. “So, I think both of you have figured out that Adrian and I interested in more than dinner, but you shouldn't feel obligated. After we've eaten, if you would like to join us, excellent.”  
Adrian chooses this moment to return, setting fine a covered basket on the table and kissing to Talia’s cheek quickly. He finishes for her, “If you're not interested, we've all had a pleasant evening of food and wine and you two continue on your way. Sound alright?”  
Julian arches an eyebrow at the two of them. “Seems fair enough.”  
“Lovely. Red or white?” Talia gives Julian a hard look. “Actually, I don't think I need to ask. You only drink red. When you drink wine that is.”  
“Fortune teller?”  
“No.” She pours him a generous glass. “Just observant. You have the look of someone who doesn't waste too much time with enjoyment between sober and drunk.”  
“Talia!” Adrian scolds, not knowing, as I do that a little shiver if pleasure ran through Julian just now. I suspect, however, that Talia is somehow aware. “Forgive her. She doesn't always waste much time on tact.”  
“I'm not actually sober very much.” Julian shifts, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Dema actually is a fortune teller.” I elbow Julian hard in the ribs, earning a hungry little gasp from him.  
Adrian looks at me with interest. “Oh? I've seen card readers set up in stalls here. We have magicians at home, but no one who tells fortunes or uses cards.”  
“Hmm.” Talia sets a glass of red in front of me; it is actually my preference. “Like playing cards?”  
I feel in my pocket for Asra's deck, having keep it close to me since he left it in my care, and pull it out. “I've been told that the suits are different from the ones used in lots of foreign countries. And we have an additional suit most playing decks lack: the Major Arcana.” I can the cards out, face up, for him to inspect. It's a particularly exquisite deck; Asra had painted each one himself. I gaze shyly up into Adrian's green eyes. “Do you want a reading?”  
Talia pats his shoulder. “Go ahead, darling. I'll get your grill started so we don't die of starvation.”  
He slides into the seat she vacated as I shuffle the cards. I talk him through cutting the cards, then have him select three. The simplest reading: past, present, and future.  
“Past: the eight of cups, and present: the ten of wands reversed.” I smile to myself. “You've spent much of your life doing as you please. And right now, you are avoiding something.” Usually the reversed ten of wands meant that sometime was avoiding a responsibility of was on the process of taking on too much, but the card spoke to me with greater nuance this time. Whatever Adrian was avoiding was an expectation, perhaps a duty in the eyes of some, but the card’s reversal had a feeling of rightness to it, as if Adrian was right to flee. “Something that you should, I think, stay away from.”  
Adrian's face is solemn when I look up. “That's not inaccurate.” He slides around the bench to sit next to me, his hand hovering over mine where it rests on the third card. “Go on.”  
Turning the third card, I am surprised to find temperance as Adrian’s future. “But you'll find a path that accepts your actual responsibility. More than you want, but not more than what you should take. Be confident that you'll make the right decision when the time comes.”  
“Fascinating.” His breath brushes my ear. I'm boxed tightly between him and Julian, something I would normally hate, but under these circumstances, I find I'm more than okay with feeling both of them pressed against me. “Do you, like, memorize a list of meanings?”  
“Not exactly.” I shuffle the cards again, just to have something to do with my hands. “Each suit and card, does have one or more meanings associated with it, but they're a little different in each reading. I have to listen.”  
“Hmm.” He takes my chin in his hand turning me to face him and presses a quick, close mouthed kiss to my lips. I can feel the color rising in my cheeks. “Thank you, lovely.” He stands, then looks over at Julian and grins. “Ah, don’t want you to be jealous.” He leans over me to kiss Julian, harder and longer than the relatively chaste peck I got. Not that I’m jealous. Julian is still blushing when Talia sits back down across from him, having ceded charge of the grill to Adrian.  
“So, um.” Julian stammers again. My hand running along his thigh probably isn’t helping with his coherence. “What brought you here, to Vesuvia?”  
Talia gives him a cool look, then moves to sit next to me. “Darling, would you mind letting me look at those cards of your?” I hand the deck to her. She begins to methodically lay them out, face up, in front of her before responding to his question. “We’ve another friend, who we very much needed to get away from home for a few . . . months. A lot of things have gone done in her life recently that are patently unfair, and she’s not someone who deals with that well.” She lays down the Wheel of Fortune in reverse and pushes it into formation with the other cards, unaware of how it fit her comment. “So since Adrian took a leave from teaching, and we kipnapped her for a jaunt. We let her run around each port of call for a few days and blow off steam. I’ve actually only had to bail her out of jail once so far.” Talia bites her lip as she lays down another card. “She’s probably passed out in a bar somewhere.”  
“The last time she went missing,” Adrian was stabbing shrimp onto sharpened sticks by the grill while he talked. “She was actually holed up in some corner of a private library. I still don’t know how she got in. It took me most of the day, and I actually have credentials from a university.”  
“Anyway, the boy and I have to keep ourselves entertained.” She finished laying out the cards and leaned back in the bench seat draping an arm around my shoulders. “I like to look into local theaters, since I do work with one back home. The one we met at is quite creative within limited resources. Then Adrian starts hissing in my ear that the subject of the farce has somehow tumbled onto the stage. Lots of cities possess hidden markets and host masquerades, but that’s not an everyday occurance.”  
Julian gives me a worried look and a pat his knee reassuringly. Whatever else these two are up to, they are entirely disinterested in the Palace’s affairs.  
“So, you just, go looking to get into bed with magicians and murderers.”  
“Oh no, darling,” Adrian says. “I have a bet to win.”  
“I . . . I don’t follow.”  
Talia sighs. “Apparently, whatever winter you were roaming our hometown, Adrian made some sort of bet with a university friend that he’d get you into bed.”  
I curl into Julian’s chest, smothering my laughter in a handful of his shirt. I’m scared to look and see how red he’s managed to turn.  
“Hey,” Adrian’s voice is mock defensive. “It wasn’t just me. There were several very similar bets.”  
“I didn’t know I had such an effect.”  
“Oh? Tall, handsome foreigner who blushes easily, and drinks most everyone under the table. You’re surprised? Several people won their bets, by the way.”  
“I suppose it’s good to be an object of competition.” Julian doesn’t sound that sure. I hear and feel him swallow a goodly portion of wine, but remain pressed against him, enjoying his body heat. He runs a hand through my hair and down my back. “I don’t remember you at all, I’m afraid.”  
“Different departments. And I hadn’t quite come into my own as the glorious hedonist standing before you today."

Somewhat to my surprise, Adrian is a capable cook, grilling a variety of shellfish and skewers of vegetables and serving them with a sweet tart sauce. He sits next to me, eventually feeding me tidbits fruit and cheese as a dessert, fingerlips lingering on my lips as he does so. Talia sits across the table, a sort of strange supervisor, and continues to pour wine for the four of us.   
One appetite sated and feeling the wine in my fingers, and toes, and lips, I kiss the men on either side of me. Adrian’s mouth and, because of the difference in our height, the point where Julian’s jaw meets his neck, taking the time with him to scrape my teeth lightly across the sensitive skin. Julian moans and Adrian laughs in delight.  
“I take it you’ll stay for the rest of the evening.”  
In response, I kiss him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are sweet and innocent and didn't pay attention to the explicit content rating, avert your eyes now.

The hold of the ship is one large comfortable room.  There’s another table and chairs at one end, and the other is taken up by futon style cushions laid out in the floor.  Soft ropes nonchalantly tossed over the back of a chair give me an idea, but I want something more personal. Quickly, I untie and unwind the strip of cloth I use to bind my breasts.  I lean against Julian savoring the feeling of my breasts pressed against his naked back. I bite gently at his earlobe, then harder. “Give me your hands.” I feel the muscles twitch in his cheek and I can imagine the leer on his face, but he puts both arms behind behind his back.  I knot the strip of fabric around his wrists - nothing artful but it should hold - and I shift myself around to face him.

The combination of his smile and arched eyebrow is breathtaking. “Tying me up?”

I grab a handful of Julian's hair hard and press my cheek close against his. I kiss him hard, biting at his bottom lip.  Maybe I should make a habit of tying up the people in my life before they leave me. Or at least putting leashes on them.

I pull out of the kiss to find that Adrian has taken my place behind Julian.  I lean over Julian to kiss him. Knowing full well that this position presses Julian's face between my breasts, I take my time with Adrian giving Julian time to mouth his way to a nipple.  Both men know what they're doing with their mouths. I sigh with pleasure and sink back onto my heels. I ignore Julian's whine as I pull away from him.

“I understand you made some sort of bet, to get this mess of man in bed with you?” I run my hand down Julian's chest tugging idly at the sparse hair.

Adrian grins as I reference his story. “I did.”

“And what will you do with him? Now that you've got him.” Julian opens his mouth to say something, and I clap a hand over it. “Shut up, Julian.”

“Hmm.” Adrian runs a hand through Julian's hair and asking the side if his neck and then down his arm. “So many things, I suppose I should leave a mark.” He kisses Julian's neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave a welt.  Julian is trembling. “Or two.” He grabs a nipple and pinches and twists. Julian tells and then falls back against Adrian's chest, his face an exquisite study in the interplay of pain and pleasure. “What do you think that I should do with him?”

“Whatever it is,” I pat Julian's cheek. “I'm sure that he'll be a good boy for you.” I slid my hand behind his head and fist it in his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. I drag my hand forward again.  Julian follows it, trying to maintain physical contact, until he loses his balance and tumbles forward into me. “Look at you. Can't bear to not be touching me?” I push him back, rougher than absolutely necessary and grin up at Adrian. “Do whatever you want. If he behaves for you, I just might let him touch me again.”

I slide away from the boys, back to where Talia is sitting cross legged on a pile of cushions a sketchbook held in her lap.  She smiles indulgently at me, sets aside the sketchbook, and pats her now free lap. I lean back, letting her cradle my head.  She traces her fingers along the planes of my face and then runs them along the length of my arms. I sigh contentedly.

“Having fun?”  She asks, bending over me.

I nod.  “Why are you over here? By yourself?”

“Ah.”  She smiles serenely and stroked my hair.  “You have noticed that your doctor enjoys to be pushed around, maybe even a bit roughly.”  I nod, thinking about how he responded to my touch on the eel bite he took from me. “And Adrian is, shall we say, expansive, in what he enjoys.  I am . . . pickier . . . than most about touching, and pickier still about being touched. But I don’t mind watching at all.”

Julian and Adrian are lovely to look at.  Julian's pale skin and dark curls contrast with Adrian's tanned skin and gold flecked hair. Adrian kneels beside him, apparently whispering in his ear before getting a little nod of go ahead from Julian.

“What are you and Adrian to each other?”  So far, I’ve yet to see them do anything other than exchange friendly touches or a kiss on the cheek.

“Adrian and I . . . I’m not sure there’s a word for what Adrian and I are.   We wouldn’t be without each other, but I’m only interested in women. And while Adrian finds all the kinds of people attractive, I think he has a slight preference for cocks.”  

At the moment, Adrian’s mouth is wrapped around Julian’s, cheeks hollowed, and head moving up and down languidly.  Julian’s face is ecstatic and for a moment I feel the jealously I said I wouldn’t, wishing that I was the one in between his legs.  I twist around until I’m sitting cross legged as well with my face level to her’s. “Can I . . . may I kiss you?”

Her hair is falling is dark ringlets around her face and in the soft light, her lips are full and deliciously dark.  There’s the slightest dip of her chin and a smile to communicate her assent. I lean into her soft mouth and sigh as her hands cup my face pulling me to her.  Her lips are soft, and sweet from the wine we’ve been drinking all evening. She gives, and lets me have, just a moment of tongue, before pulling away. One hand remains against my jaw, the other slides down to my collarbone.  Talia looks down pointedly and then brings her eyes back to mine, waiting for permission. I nod. She smiles again, this time showing not quite even teeth that make me what to lean in to kiss her yet again. Her hands slide down, pushing past my long undone shirt to my breasts.  She catches my nipples between her thumb and index finger. I gasp and close my eyes as she kneads at my breasts, and she responds with a gentle laugh. 

“Can I continue?”  She whispers in my ear.  My response is a pathetic, needy little whine.  Talia nibbles at my ear lobe, then her hands are suddenly gone from me.  I open my eyes to complain, and she presses a finger to my mouth. She takes each of my ankles, and tucks them behind her, then her hands pull me to sit in her lap.  I slump against her and feel rather than her her soft laugh this time. Her hands move across my back then comb through my hair before returning to my face. “Be good for me, Dema.”  She gently pushing my head and chest away from her. “Close your eyes, lay back.” Her strong hands guide me down until I am laying back against a cushion and then return to my collarbones.  “I’ll stop anytime you say, love.” 

I feel her hands twist, and then she drags the back of her nails down my chest and over my belly in a wavy pattern, pushing shirt away to either side.  Her fingers stop just at the waistband of my pants. I whine and rock my hips against her legs. She chuckles. Her hands flip over and she taps her fingers on the muscle just above my hip bones.  Continuing the tapping with one hand, she draws the other down in short little shuffles, still over my pants. Why didn’t I take them off earlier? She reaches the crease where thigh and hip meet and momentarily rests her hand over my cunt before sliding around the outside of my thigh to grip my ass.  “You have a wonderfully grabbable ass.” Her other hand grabs at the other cheek, and then her fingers are undoing the closures hidden at the side seams of my pants. Obligingly, I lift my hips as she works them down, leaving my silk knickers in place to my dismay. “Whoever did this needlework is talented,” she muses, tracing a finger along the snake motif that decorates the seams.  I blush hard. It’s not my handiwork. I can badly mend a rip if I must, but these embellishments come courtesy of one of Asra’s artistic phases and his absolute lack of personal boundaries.

“Shall we get these off?” Talia maneuvers my right leg over her head and slides my pants the rest of the way off.  Then slowly, too slowly, she eases my knickers down my legs, finally leaving them in a heap on the floor. She returns my right leg to the other side of her body, leaving me spread open before her.  With her gaze running over my body, blood rushes to cheeks. Her hands trace over my hips again, thumbs running along my stretch marks, before her right palm returns to my mound. I lift my hips, craving more pressure than she’s giving.  In husky whisper, she tells me I’m beautiful, and I feel more blood rush to cheeks and between my legs.

Without taking her eyes from mine, she runs her thumb along my slit and dips into my vagina to collect the moisture that has gathered there.  Her free hand moves up my torso and she begins to knead a breast as she draws her thumb back, deeper through my folds, not quite brushing my clit.  Pleasure closes my eyes, drops my head to the side, and eases a delighted moan from my body. Her fingers work deeper stroking along my clit and around the edge of my vagina. I bite my lip.  She laughs softly. “You needn't hold back, love, unless you want to.” And she's right, behind me someone else is crying out an orgasm. I give in and showing myself the vocalization seems only to increase the pleasure of it all.

Then there is a hand on each of my breasts, even though Talia's haven't left my cunt and hipbone.  I almost opens my eyes, but she's tells me not to, and right now I'll do anything she tells me. White light blossoms behind my eyes, and my muscles clench around her fingers.  Her other hand rests on my stomach as I ride out my orgasm.

She's smiling at me when I come back to earth.  “Beautiful,” she whispers and pats my thigh. I roll my head back and look up into Julian's one gray eye.  His hands, free now, are resting just below my breasts, thumbs not quite brushing against my nipples. I lift my arms to him, and he scoops me up into his lap, pressing a kiss to my neck.  I curl into his warmth.

“You are glorious to watch,” he whispers into my ear.  I lean further into him, tugging my face against his neck.  Sliding a hand down between us, I lazily stroke his cock. He’s already half erect, and it doesn’t take him long to be fully hard again.  “Oho?” I can imagine his leer even without seeing it. “Another round?” I nod, stroking harder at his cock. “And what do you want, my dear?”

I shift around so that I am straddling him with my weight resting on my knees.  The head of his dick is barely touching my entrance. Both are slick and slippery, and the feeling is one of rightness.  Leaning my forehead against his, I play with his hair, trying to draw out this closeness as much as I can. “You,” I whisper.  I shift my weight forward dragging over his cock. He whines and tightens his hands around my hips. “I want to feel you in me.”

“How I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”  His voice is breathless and husky. His hands lift my hips gently.  “Can you stand? I want to - I mean, if it's okay - I want to taste you first.”  His face is begging, almost desperate. I nod. Hands on his shoulders for balance, I somehow manage to get upright.  His hands stay on my hips, providing some support. He presses a soft kiss to my belly, then slides his mouth lower to my hip, then the inside of each thigh.  I’m digging my nails into his shoulders in anticipation when he finally draws his tongue along my pussy. When he probes deeper, circling my clit and pushing in, my knees start to buckle.  An unobtrusive pair of hands grasp my ribs before I have too much time to worry that bracing against Julian’s shoulders won’t be enough. I let go. One hand remains twisting in his hair. The other I raise to my chest, fondling a breast. He pulls back, dragging a series of kisses and light bits down the inside of my thigh.  I whine and pull his hair harder. He laughs and kisses my knee before his mouth is back at my core.

“Please.”  The pressure between my legs is becoming too much.

“Please what?”  His mouth is gone again, but he has two fingers stroking inside me.  I moan in response, my hips twitching forward. There’s not central will left in me to control them or form words.  “Tell me what you want.” He fingers go still. I glare down at him, at his wicked and beautiful smile. 

“In me. I need you.”  He smile somehow becomes more wicked than it was a moment before.  The hands that were helping to hold me up are gone, and his hands are back on my hips, helping to lower me back to the floor, straddling his lap.  I kiss his mouth hard and move a hand between us, finding his cock and guiding it to my entrance. Slow as I can, but not slowly enough, I slid down his length, sighing at the fullness.  I pause and lean my head into his shoulder, breathing hard. His hand find the base of my neck, soothing the trembling muscles there.

“Are you good?”

“Good. So good,” I gasp more than speak.

“Heh.”  He kisses my neck and slides his hands around my ass lifting my hips.  I accept the prompt and begin to move.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. End of the line.

Julian cradles me close, one large hand spread across my belly.  I'm nearly caged by the way his long legs are folded around me. His breath is warm against the top of my head, and he runs his other hand idly through my hair.

Across the room from us, Talia, her eyes closed, is the only one still clothed.  Adrian, head cradled him her lap, is sprawled out, very asleep and very naked. Their hands touch, fingers twined lightly together.  I think they're beautiful together, whatever words they might choose to use.

Julian sighs heavily and pulls me even tighter to him.  “I don’t actually want to, I really don’t want to end this.”

“Then don’t.”

“I’m a disaster waiting to happen, Dema, and I don’t want that disaster to happen to you too.  I’ve done the calculations. Run through every possible scenario, over and over. There’s only one way I see this whole thing playing out, and it’s not a happy ending, trust me.  Isn’t it best to cut things off at the pass - to spare you the trouble of a tragic ending.” His body tenses up more than it already, curling around me in defiance of his words.

I twist out of his embrace, turning to look at him.  “Shouldn’t I have some say in how much trouble and tragedy I can manage?”

His gaze is forlorn.  “I just, I just can’t let you subject yourself to the damage that I can do.  That I will do.”

“You’re insufferable.”  I roll away from him with a hiss.  Someone - Talia I’m sure - has folded my clothes into a tidy pile.  I dress quickly, neglecting my bindings. Julian is still sprawled in the floor, one hand throw over his face when I stalk up the stairs to the deck.

A breeze shifts through the night air, lifting my hair and cooling my flushed face.  I hear steps behind me and look back, but it’s Talia - not Julian - who emerges from below deck.  She joins me at the rail, offering me a cigarette from a silver case. I decline. She returns the case to a pocket and stands, waiting for me to speak. 

I don’t speak. I give into the tears I’ve been blinking back and soon, I am sobbing while Talia holds me and strokes my hair.  When I finally get myself under control and pull away from her, she leans forward and kisses my cheek.

“Is there someone to take care of you?”

I bite my lip trying to push back that have begun to form again. Asra might have returned, or not. Or he might have left again. It's impossible to know.

“You can stay here for tonight if you want.”

I shake my head. I want my own bed.

Talia sighs and rests a hand on my cheek. “We're planning to be here at least though this masquerade your countess is throwing.” She runs her thumb along my jaw. “You're welcome anytime for whatever reason.”

Someone coughs behind us.  I turn around. Julian is a dark silhouette against the night sky.  His body is tense, suggesting that he wants nothing more than to disappear into the ocean.  

“Dema, I’ll, um, walk you back to your shop.  If you want, that is, but I’d feel better about it if you let me.”

I turn back to Talia.  She leans forward and kisses each of my cheeks.  “Remember, anytime.”

I force a smile.  “Thank you. And tell Adrian that too.”  She nods and pulls me into a final quick hug.

Julian is waiting on the dock itself.  I start for the shop without waiting for him.  He walks behind me, then beside me, like he can’t figure out where he actually should be, where he is allowed to be now.  At a torch lit corner he grabs my hand, pulling me to a stop. “I, I, this, this will drive me mad, knowing you’re there, no here. But it’s for the best, I’ll only end up hurting you.”  He looks away from me. “Worse, that is.”

“I’m not afraid of pain.”

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

“It’s all I can offer you!” He pulls at his hair in frustration.  “I’m not a good man, Dema. The things I’ve done... I must have done something unforgivable.  Where else does this pit in my stomach come from?”

“Probably from not eating enough and drinking too much.” I mean for the comment to be snarky, but it comes out sounding concerned instead.  I reach up and touch his face.

“I won’t have you come down this path with me. You deserve better than that.”  His expression is entirely forlorn. The urge to pull him into an embrace is as strong as my desire to shove him into the wall.  It feels like I’ve known him for far longer than I have, like we’ve been at this impasse before. And perhaps he’s something and someone else I’ve forgotten; although, that doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t remember me.

“Do you want me?”

“That’s a strange question, isn’t it?”

“I’m a fortune teller, Julian.  I can sense when there is meaning beneath the words actually spoken.”

“I . . . ”  He pulls back from my touch as if it burns him and for a moment I am afraid that he will run away.  “I want you to be safe. I want you to stay out of this whole mess. I want...It doesn’t matter what I want.  I stole a night or two from time, with you. And I’m scared to press my luck any further.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Tenacious, aren’t you?  It’s one of the things I like about you.  You keep moving forward. You’re like this great bright light, drawing me towards you.  I just can’t help myself.” A moth to the flame, ever headed toward destruction. What happened to make him think that life would always end in tragedy?  I’m working through the implications of his comparison, when he admits, softly, “I want you. I know it's only been a short time, but I feel like I’ve known you for years.  Is it because you put me at ease with myself? At ease with the world. That’s hard to do.” 

I feel a strange assurance from his words.  If we both feel that this has been longer than it actually has, more than two nights of frivolous debauchery, perhaps there was some connection in the past, perhaps something to be had in the future. 

“I can’t stop thinking about,” he continues.  “That’s the problem. I’m torn in two, Dema. My brain tells me to leave, but my heart keeps pulling me back.”  He looks up, staring at the torch then at the full moon beyond it. “If I think about it . . . I can see the path our story would take.  So why?” He slumps against the wall, then grabs my hand and pulls me toward him, wrapping me into his ridiculous cape. “Are you cold? You must be cold?”

It’s a warm night, and I’m not cold at all, but I humor his aside.  Besides, I want the closeness, his hand around my shoulders and the comfort it entails.

“If I walk away from you now, will I stay away?  If I drop my guard, will I find myself walking right back to you?  That’s what makes me selfish. Because whatever we could have, whatever possibilities they’ll only lead to ruin.  That’s the kind of man I am. There’s no future for us that doesn’t end in pain for you.”

“What future do you want?”

“I’ve told you, it doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Can’t you see anything but tragedy?”

“It’s what will happen.  In this world, we don’t get what we want.  Why waste time imagining something you can’t have?  I don’t dare hope. It just makes it hurt more when you don’t get it.”

“...Try. For me.”  I hate how pitiful my voice sounds.

He laughs darkly.  “What do you want to hear from me?  That I want a future? That I want to live? That I want something with you?”  He pulls away from and begins to pace in the torchlight. “Right now, right now, I do.  And with you, perhaps always something with you. But you don’t understand, the darkness that I feel so much will return and, and the despair that comes with it, and maybe you won’t be enough then for me to still want this life.” His voice trails off as he steps outside of the circle of light.  I trail him, hand outstretched, but not touching him, not yet. He draws his hands up, shielding each side of his face from my gaze. “I can see it when I close my eyes, but I know that it’s an illusion, that it will be overpowered. And maybe you as well. So, if I end it now, you’ll survive, Dema. You were fine before I got here. You’ll be fine after I’ve left.” He shakes his head and pauses, breathing deliberately for a moment.  The pathos in his voice, when he talks about ending it, ending it now scares me. 

“Please, Dema, let me walk you home now.”

He leaves me at the door of the shop with a hesitant, melancholy kiss to each of my cheeks.  “Please, please believe me, Dema. You’re not just a lovely distraction, a treat. If I had what I wanted . . . You’re the first person to make me want a future in a long time, but I know . . .” His voice trails off miserably.  “Be well, my dear.”

When I push open the door, the shop smells like cinnamon and green tea and is filled with light from the lanterns.  Asra must have returned. He pokes his head, fluffy hair glowing in the candlelight like a halo, down the stairwell a moment later and grins brightly when he sees me.

“Back from your jaunt at the palace?  Welcome home.” He looks at my face then walks across the room, eyebrows knitting in concern.  “I recognize that look. What happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”  I step past him and head up the stairs.  I want a bath. I must reek of two days worth running about the town and of at least three other people.  In the kitchen, I set up a folding screen, roll out our shallow tub, and fill it with water from the pump.  Hands hovering over the surface and reverse the trick I did with the wine earlier, heating the water through.  Clothes tossed to the side, I climb in, dunk my head under to rinse out my hair, and sink as far down as I can.

I lose track of time, and how many times I’ve used my magic to reheat the water.  Asra eventually coaxes me out, wraps me in a fluffy robe, and forces me to drink a glass of water before letting me collapse into bed.  I may complain about Asra’s lack of personal boundaries. It’s a lie. I love that I can count of him to know what’s on my mind, and what I need to ease it.  At least, that is, when he’s here. But he’s here right now. Finally, without rolling over to face him, I talk.

“Julian left me.”

“He did? You two were...?” The mattress sinks with Asra’s slight weight as he lays down beside me and hesistantly puts a hand on my shoulder.  “What happened?”

I tell him the whole story in start and stops.

“That sounds like Ilya.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Were you two even really together?

“I don’t really know.”

“Ilya - the only things he loves more than drama is his own suffering.  And he’s determined to chase both.” His voice is uncharacteristically bitter.

I roll over.  I want to be able to see Asra before I ask the next question on my mind.  He’s lying on his side, watching me with those gentle eyes. “I feel like I’ve known him a lot longer than a few days.  Just like I feel - know - I’ve known you longer than I can remember.” After all, Julian and Asra were even involved at some point in the past, it stands to reason that I knew him at the time.  “Did I know him? Before?” Even as I ask the question I can feel a headache starting to stab behind my eyes. I do my best to hide it from Asra concerned that he won’t answer my question if he knows one of my headaches is already beginning.

Asra reaches out and stroked my hair.  He frowns, looks away, then meets my eyes again.  “Yes. You knew each other.”

“Why doesn’t he remember me?”  I sit up in bed and pull my knees to my chest.  “Asra, he doesn’t remember the night the count died either.  And Nadia is missing years.” The headache stabs through my temples; I gasp, unable to disguise the pain any longer.  Asra sits beside and begins to massage my scalp. The headache starts to dissipate, pushed away by his fingers. “Don’t take anything else away from me, Asra, please.”  

“Shhh... I won’t.” He sighs heavily. “But I can’t tell you everything you want to know. What if it’s too much for you? I can’t take the chance that this time you don’t come back from it.”

Tears coming to my eyes, I slump back into the pillows. “I want to remember.  Why are you the only one to remember anything from that time?”

He lies back down beside me.  “I’m so sorry, my love. I wish I could tell you everything.”

It takes a moment for his endearment to sink in.  My love. He’s never called me that before and the implications aren’t ones I want to dwell on.  What else, who else have I forgotten? Why should Asra be the keeper of my past? It’s infuriating, even if the stabbing pain in my head reminds me that there are reasons behind his refusal.

“What should I do?”  I ask, because how can I possibly decide when I don’t have all the information.

“What do you want to do?”

I contemplate socking Asra with a pillow, but he continues before I work up enough energy to do so.  “You want to go after him, right? I can’t stop you. I just... want you to be careful.”

“Why did you call me 'my love’ just now?”

Asra's breath catches.  I push myself up, weight resting on one arm so that I can see his face.  He averts his eyes and brings one hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. I almost feel bad for doing so, but I press him anyway.  “What was I to you? Before.”

“We... We were lovers.”

As he says the words, icy talons stab through my temples, creep to the base of my skull, and trace a line of white, hot fire down my back.  I cry out from the sudden pain and collapse against Asra’s chest. Half formed images of Asra - almost but not quite memories - rush through my mind and are gone again.  A desert. Asra laughing. Tangled in bedsheets with sweat beading along his back. 

“Dema!” Asra’s voice is frantic as he calls my name.  I'm dimly aware of his hands on my arms, but he sounds far away. Always so far away. “Dema, please, stay with me, please.” The ringing in my ears grows into the roar of a fire before darkness overtakes me.

When I wake, there's a damp towel pressed over my eyes.  The headache is in retreat for the time being, a weight curled at the base of my skull to remind me that it can return at any time.  Asra is is asleep in an armchair beside the bed with Faust in his lap. His eyebrows are knitted together in worry.

We - Asra and I - were lovers?  It makes sense in a way. His face, lined with concern, is the first thing I remember when I woke three years ago.  His voice talked me through the fiery, all-day consuming pain that I was in until it subsided into migraines and nightmares.  I'd never questioned why we shared the rooms above the shop and slept in this single bed; it had been natural.

But why had he never told me? In all the nights we'd snuggled together he never done more than kiss my forehead.  He'd never said a word about any of the bad or worse relationships I'd gotten into and out of over the past year or so, since I'd begun trying to prove to myself that I wasn't just a fragile porcelain doll.  And - my mind flew back to the memory that I had found in the library, the one of him and Julian as well as Julian's ironic musings about ‘a witch who fears commitment’- he and Julian were involved at some point in the past.  What a tangled mess, and Asra was intent on carrying the weight of it on his own.

Oh, Asra.  I reached out and pushed his curls back from his face.  He sighed in his sleep and leaned his hand into my hand.  So, we loved each other once. He and Julian were involved once. Julian and I knew each other once. (And Asra alone knows what Julian and I may have been to each other.)

What now? When I don't even know if I'm the same person Asra loved and Julian knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I thoroughly intended this to be a one off, self indulgent little bit of smut, but I've enjoyed the writing process enough that I'm tempted to continue with the idea of trying to weave together the Julian and Asra routes (and side ship the hell out of Nadia and Portia, because Nadia and Portia together is all that is good and proper and right). 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I am on tumbler at Aria-i-Adagio and welcome all questions, comments, and concerns.


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